
Creature [POETRY]
Dear forgotten friend My heart is a foreign creature to me sometimes It has a memory separate from mine Inside the bloody veins of the
Dear forgotten friend My heart is a foreign creature to me sometimes It has a memory separate from mine Inside the bloody veins of the
Vultures can smell frying flesh and Charred cells they descend from heaven on wings carrying death coasting over the waves of souls rising They hover
I was never one for perfection. The swoops of my penmanship never had to lay in synchronicity. They were made to give a point, and
Abira of Lonsdale was the princess-to-be If it came down to it, She would choose the crown, Having the crown meant happiness, Pleasure, Wealth, Delight,
I am Nothing More Than The accumulation Of The past Forced Into Another Layer Of God Forsaken Reality Forced To play Out Another Set Of
Dear humanity, You are the AI the one before, I mean the generator and creator — you are the language of rearranging phrases and sentences
Every day The sun Shall Set The night Shall Blacken The world Shall Slip Into Nothing Every year Shall Come to A close Every life
The grass Seems To have Frozen Over At places Or perhaps It is a Trick Of the Light The way It grazes Its fingers To
I am consumed by the overwhelming presence of your love. It crashes into my soul like lightning, leaving me in a state of habromania, intoxicated
My grave Will have Flowers Won’t it? The petals Withering As the Worms Further My peace The constant Rush Swallowed As my Body is Encapsulated